


Terribly Restless

by enigmaticblue



Series: Ghosts from the Past [1]
Category: NCIS, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Childhood, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another lifetime, Tony spent summers in the Hamptons with the scions of other rich families, including one John Sheppard. In this lifetime, they meet again when they’re both at a crossroad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terribly Restless

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt: skeletons in the closet. Many thanks to shaddyr who posed the initial “what if?” with a bit of her own spin. This is my take on it. For purposes of this fic, I’m fudging the ages just a bit.
> 
> Please note that there is a referenced suicide as part of a case.

_“There is something about a closet that makes a skeleton terribly restless.”_ ~Wilson Mizner

 

His dad pulls up in front of a large house on the edge of a sandy stretch of beach. “Well, here we are,” he says with forced cheer. “Much better than summer camp, right, boys?”

 

John forces a smile and nods, since that’s what his dad seems to want. “It looks great, Dad.”

 

“Really great,” Dave echoes, always willing to do and be exactly what their father wants.

 

John knows why they aren’t being sent off to summer camp this year, but it’s one of those things he really doesn’t want to think about. Their dad wants them to have family time, and there are plenty of rich businessmen who spend summers here, partly to relax, and partly to make contacts with others of their kind.

 

John doesn’t really mind going to the Hamptons, rather than summer camp, since staying home hadn’t been an option. There’s the beach, and the promise of surfing, and maybe some other kids his age, although Dave will probably tag along, because he always does.

 

The house is big, although not as big as their place in Virginia, and John changes into swimming trunks and a t-shirt and heads out back to the beach.

 

The sun is warm overhead, the sky a cloudless blue, and he can smell the salt in the breeze that comes off the ocean.

 

“Hey! Is this your first time here?”

 

John starts and turns to see a lanky boy maybe a little older than he is standing nearby, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He’s tanned, his hair sun-bleached and a little long, and he offers a friendly, open smile.

 

And there’s something about him that stirs those forbidden longings in John, which makes him dangerous.

 

Never let it be said that John Sheppard runs from danger, however.

 

“Yeah, it is. John Sheppard.”

 

The boy grins, his teeth white and straight, and he sticks out his hand. “Anthony DiNozzo, Junior. Call me Tony.”

 

“Tony,” John replies. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“You like football, right?” Tony asks. “Because we’re starting a game of flag football later if you’re interested.”

 

John nods. “Yeah, that would be great.”

 

“Any reason you guys decided to come here this year?” Tony asks, and the question cuts him deeply, but John figures it’s better just to get it out in the open.

 

He has no reason to lie, after all. He just doesn’t want to think about it.

 

“Mom died six months ago, and Dad thought we should spend some time together as a family,” John says bluntly.

 

Tony’s expression goes soft with sympathy—but not pity, and John’s coming to learn the difference. “My mom died a few years back, and now Dad’s dumping me on step-mother number three for the summer.”

 

“Sucks,” John observes.

 

“Could be worse,” Tony counters.

 

And just like that, a connection is formed.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony exits the bar near Dupont Circle, the cooler autumn air a relief after the close heat of the club. He has three phone numbers in his pocket, proving that while he might have lost his touch with the fairer sex, the same isn’t true of the men.

 

If he’d wanted a one-night stand, he could have had his fill, both men and women, but his relationship with Jeanne filled a need that he hadn’t known he had. Tony doesn’t want a one-off, he wants something long-term, and on that front, he’s striking out.

 

He adjusts the collar of his jacket, and shoves his hands in his pockets, beginning the walk back to his car.

 

Tony passes an alley and pauses as he hears the telltale noises of a beat down in progress—fists on flesh, snarled words, grunts of pain. Given the area of town, and the “fucking fags” being thrown around, it’s a gay bash.

 

“Fucking fag,” he hears again, and he reaches for the gun that’s not on his belt. He’d left it locked in his glove compartment, since being armed doesn’t lend itself well to picking up guys.

 

“Shit,” Tony mutters, and feels the lack of a badge—also in his glove compartment because it can be a real mood killer—and his gun acutely. He could call for backup, but it wouldn’t arrive in time, and so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

 

“Hey! Federal agent! Freeze!”

 

He has nothing to back it up, but he’s hoping that the barked order, channeling his best Gibbs, will do the trick.

 

And it _does_. The assholes beating the guy disperse, splitting up and running away, and Tony breathes a sigh of relief while he pulls out his cell phone to call 911 if necessary.

 

Tony moves to the guy on the ground, who’s managed to get to his knees but not his feet, shaking his head like he’s trying to throw off the blows to the head he’s probably suffered.

 

“Hey, you need me to call an ambulance?” Tony asks. “Because I’m parked a few blocks away if you can make it that far, and I’d be happy to give you a ride. Or call a cab, if you’re not comfortable with that. And, you know, I really am a federal agent, and I can show ID when we get back to my car.”

 

And then the guy looks up, and Tony can see his eyes and the shape of his ears in the light of the nearby streetlamp. Maybe it’s been twenty years, but some things you don’t forget.

 

“John? John Sheppard?”

 

~~~~~

 

John’s been in a lot of sticky situations, but he has to admit that this ranks right up there with one of the worst. All he’d wanted was to blow off some steam where no one knew him, before the secret declassification hearings commenced.

 

It’s reckless, and maybe a little stupid, but he’s been feeling unmoored ever since Atlantis touched down in the Bay.

 

He hears footsteps behind him as he leaves one bar to head for the next. The area is fairly well trafficked, so he doesn’t realize he’s in danger until he hears the steps speed up just behind him. They don’t give him any warning, and one of them gets in a lucky shot to his head, stunning him, before he can mount a defense.

 

“Fucking fag,” one of them snarls, leaving no doubt as to the reason behind the attack. “Stupid fucking fairy.”

 

John knows that the best-case scenario here is that he’s alive and has to explain his injuries and what he was doing in this part of D.C. If he’s very lucky, he’ll be able to claim he was mugged without revealing where he’d been. If he’s not, he’ll have to explain why he got jumped in an area of Dupont Circle where most of the clientele is gay.

 

If he’s terribly unlucky, they’ll kill him. And it would just figure that he survived the Wraith, the Replicators, and all manner of dangers only to get killed by a bunch of homophobes on the streets of D.C.

 

And then he hears the not entirely welcome shout of, “Federal agent! Freeze!”

 

The tone is authoritative enough that John believes whoever’s shouting, and maybe they’ll be sympathetic to his plight and won’t out him.

 

Or maybe they won’t, and John’s career will go down the tubes with a black mark that can’t be erased or washed out.

 

Gay is worse than foolhardy and reckless in the eyes of the US military.

 

And then he hears, “John? John Sheppard?” and he’s thrown back over two decades, to the Hamptons, and the summer of his sixteenth year.

 

To soft lips and a ready smile and green eyes and a willing body, to a voice that insists, “It was me. It was a dare. I was just being stupid,” with that smile that invites people to believe him.

 

Tony DiNozzo had never been stupid, but it was easy to believe him when he insisted he was, that he had no secrets, that he was an idiot who didn’t think through daring his friend to kiss him.

 

That it had never been John at all. That John hadn’t started it. That Tony wasn’t protecting John’s future with a ready lie that everybody believed.

 

And then John blinks, and he’s in a dark alley, and Tony’s leaning over him, green eyes dark in the dim light. “Shit, man,” Tony says. “You’re completely fucked up. How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

John tries to focus, to think about the present, and not the distant past, and he says, “Two.”

 

“Okay, so probably not a bad concussion,” Tony replies. “Since the last I heard, you were in the Air Force, I’m going to ask you: hospital or no?”

 

“No,” John insists.

 

“Fair warning, if I think you need the hospital, I’ll haul your ass there whether you want to go or not,” Tony warns, and then pulls John to his feet. “But if that happens, then you were in town to visit me, we were meeting up at a bar, and you got jumped.”

 

John coughs and clutches his ribs. “At a gay bar?”

 

“My choice, and a joke on you, because I like making my very straight friend uncomfortable before we go somewhere straight and manly,” Tony replies. “Let me do the talking if necessary.”

 

“You were always good at that,” John murmurs. “God, Tony, I’m sorry.”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tony replies. “Water under the bridge. You’re still in the Air Force, right?”

 

John nods. “Lieutenant Colonel, and I might even make full bird, against all expectations.”

 

“Then it was worth it. My life went on, nothing changed, and I wasn’t hurt,” Tony replies. “You would have been. You wanted to fly, John.”

 

“I flew,” John says. “I don’t think I will again.”

 

Tony snorts. “Don’t be a Debbie Downer, man. We’ll get it figured out.”

 

More than twenty years may have passed, but Tony’s just the same as ever, and they’re filling the same roles they always did.

 

Tony had always been the one who had believed that everything would work out; John had been the pessimist.

 

Given the evening’s events, John isn’t sure which one of them is right.

 

~~~~~

 

“Come on, man, it’s a party!” Tony’s lying on his back on the floor of John’s bedroom, staring at the model fighter jet hanging from the ceiling. “It’ll be fun.”

 

John’s lying on his stomach on his bed, flipping through a magazine. They would probably be outside, but it’s raining and generally dreary, one of the few days without sun they’ve had. “Is there going to be alcohol?”

 

“Duh,” Tony replies. “Kyle’s parents are out of town, and he has the keys to the liquor cabinet.”

 

He’s been trying to get John to loosen up this summer, but John’s got it in his head that he wants to be an Air Force pilot, and he needs a clean record for that.

 

Tony’s sympathetic, but John is probably his best friend—at least during the summers—and John will have plenty of time to be straight-laced when he’s flying fighter jets or whatever.

 

Tony plans to go pro, and he refuses to think about what he might do if that doesn’t happen. Everybody has told him going pro is a long shot, but Tony refuses to listen to the naysayers.

 

“I can’t,” John finally says. “If I get caught—”

 

“I’ll get you out of it,” Tony says confidently. “Besides, if you’re that worried about it, just don’t drink. Being in the presence of alcohol isn’t a crime. If it was, you’d be fucked by hanging around our house when my old man is home.”

 

Tony’s father isn’t home very often. This is the second year in a row he’s dumped Tony at his step-mother’s place for the summer, which means she’s lasted longer than the last couple of women. Tony can’t help but think it’s because of the place in the Hamptons.

 

John sighs. “You know the cops are going to bust the party. They busted the last two.”

 

“Yeah, and we weren’t at the last two,” Tony replies. “I won’t drink either.”

 

Tony doesn’t mind the excuse to stay sober, actually. His parents have been drunk in his presence enough times for Tony to find getting shit-faced more of a turn-off than anything else.

 

“I don’t know,” John says. “Dave’s home, and I’m supposed to be watching him.”

 

“So? We’ll wait until he’s asleep and sneak out.”

 

John’s still hesitant, and Tony honestly doesn’t see what the big deal is. John is a risk taker in a lot of other areas, but at heart, he’s not a rule-breaker.

 

If he were, the military would be a truly terrible idea.

 

“Okay,” he finally says. “But only if my dad is home. I have a responsibility to my brother.”

 

As an only child, Tony doesn’t have the same perspective, but he is slightly envious of John’s family. Granted, his mom is dead—they have that in common—but his dad seems decent and stable, and Dave isn’t too much of a pain.

 

At least John doesn’t have the constant parade of step-mothers.

 

The party, when they go, is fairly stupid. Lots of drunk teenagers, plus a few with a bong or passing around powder or pills. There are a few hookups, too, which John eyes with distaste, although Tony feels a bit of envy.

 

It’s almost a relief when the cops bust the party, and he and John are sober enough to slip out the back, over the fence, winding up on the beach laughing at the near miss.

 

“Well, if nothing else pans out, we can always be partners in crime,” Tony says, still laughing.

 

John shoves him. “Who’s the one always telling me that things are going to work out?”

 

Tony shrugs. “It never hurts to have a backup plan, you know.”

 

“What’s your backup plan?” John asks.

 

“I think I’d like to be a cop,” Tony replies. “A detective, like Magnum.”

 

“Technically, he’s a private investigator.”

 

“So? I could start out as a cop. I like solving mysteries, and I could help people,” Tony says, the idea starting to gel.

 

John’s shoulder bumps his. “I think you’d be great at it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony supports John back to his car, which is a few blocks away, but he mostly manages to move under his own power. Tony is worried, but John is moving fairly well, and when Tony asks questions about the day of the week, the name of the President, and who won the National Championship last year, John gets two out of three answers right.

 

It’s the last question that John gets wrong, which surprises Tony, but then John mumbles, “Base at the ass end of nowhere.”

 

“I hear you,” Tony replies. “I was Agent Afloat for a few months, and I felt completely disconnected.”

 

Tony knows he should probably take John to the hospital, but they would have to lie, and while Tony’s good at it, is in fact _excellent_ at being undercover, he’s not sure John’s gotten any better at it over the years.

 

One wrong answer, and they start digging into John’s past, his relationship to Tony, and his current assignment.

 

Ass end of nowhere usually leads to classified information, and revealing classified information usually leads to problems in Tony’s experience.

 

“Where are we going?” John asks.

 

“My place,” Tony replies. “I have a very comfortable couch with your name on it.”

 

“You don’t have to do this,” John protests.

 

Tony glances at him. “I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but we were friends once, and you don’t exactly forget your first.”

 

“I wasn’t your first,” John replies.

 

Tony shrugs. “First guy, anyway.”

 

“If I recall correctly, I was the one who came onto you.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it,” Tony replies, somehow not terribly surprised to find out that John blames himself for that last scene between them. “John, I had already been disowned. There was nothing my dad could have done to me at that point, other than sending me back to RIMA.”

 

“I never got to say thank you for saving my ass,” John says.

 

Tony smiles. “That’s me, always pulling your ass out of the fire. We’re good.”

 

He means it. He’d been old enough and big enough by then not to fear his father’s punishment, and his dad disowned him when he was twelve. Senior had cared enough about his well being—or maybe it was his own reputation—that he hadn’t told anybody at RIMA that Tony had been caught kissing a guy.

 

The worst thing his dad could do was to prevent Tony from seeing John again, but Tony had known that was coming as soon as he’d heart the door creak open mid-kiss. If it hadn’t been Tony’s dad, it would have been John’s.

 

And really, Senior and his step-mother had split that following winter, so Tony wouldn’t have gone back to the Hamptons anyway.

 

They were never going to have a happy ending, and Tony had known that even at seventeen. He’d just been happy with what he had in that moment.

 

Tony pulled into his parking space and says, “Stay where you are, and I’ll help you out.”

 

He’s not entirely surprised when John opens his door and swings his legs out, but Tony moves quickly, and he’s there to get him into a standing position and ensure John doesn’t fall over.

 

“Some stairs, and then we’re there,” Tony promises.

 

John grunts on every stair, but Tony goes slowly, pausing at each landing. “Broken ribs?”

 

“Bruised,” John says on a gasp. “And before you ask, I’ve had enough to know.”

 

“You and me both,” Tony replies.

 

When they reach his door, Tony fumbles for his keys and lets them inside, tossing the keys into a bowl on the entryway table and depositing John on the couch. “Let me get the first aid kit. Jacket and shirt off.”

 

Tony rummages around under his sink for first aid supplies, including an ace bandage for John’s ribs, and a bottle of painkillers he had left over from his last major injury. Normally, he wouldn’t share meds, but it seems like the lesser of two evils at the moment, and it’s just prescription strength ibuprofen, which shouldn’t depress John’s breathing, and will help with the inflammation.

 

Between Tony’s many on-the-job injuries and dating a doctor, he’s got a good working knowledge of how various medications work, and anything that might depress respirations is out with a head injury.

 

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, and hands that with a couple of pills to John. “Take those, and I’ll grab a bag of peas.”

 

John is bare-chested now, and Tony can’t help but compare the sight to the last time he’d seen John without a shirt on. He’s lean now, but he’d been skinny at sixteen, unable to eat enough to really put meat on his bones. His chest hair is sprinkled with gray, and he has more muscle, but he doesn’t look that much different.

 

There are bruises already coming up on his abdomen, and Tony gently feels for breaks, but doesn’t feel anything obvious. “If you have any trouble breathing, let me know,” he orders as he starts to wrap John’s ribs.

 

“I’m a little disturbed at just how good you are at this,” John comments, his voice slightly muffled by the bag of peas.

 

“Practice,” Tony says. “Plus a degree in Phys Ed. Most people have no idea just how much that entails.”

 

John watches him. “You didn’t play professionally.”

 

“Career-ending injury,” Tony explains briefly.

 

John’s lips quirk up. “From someone named Brad Pitt, no less.”

 

“You were paying attention,” Tony says in surprise.

 

“I like college ball, and you were good,” John replies. “Plus, I felt bad for how things ended.”

 

It’s second nature to reach out, to cup John’s face with the tenderness he remembers from their youth, when they had both been untried and uncertain. “Don’t. I can take care of myself, and I did fine.”

 

“Are you really a federal agent?” John asks.

 

“NCIS,” Tony replies, knowing that John will probably know what the letters stand for, unlike most everyone else.

 

John’s breath catches. “Tony—”

 

“If I cared what you were doing there, I’d have called 911 and left you to answer the questions on your own,” Tony says. “Besides, I _know_. I’ve known for years.”

 

“I guess you have,” John says.

 

Tony focuses on the task at hand, and finds that other than a bruise coming up on the side of John’s face, a swollen eye, and a bruise on the back of his head, his head is nearly untouched.

 

His torso took the worst of it, and there are bruises on his arms from where he’d tried to protect himself, but all in all, he’d come off fairly well.

 

“Could be worse,” John remarks, apparently following Tony’s thoughts. “I’ve _had_ worse.”

 

“You and me both,” Tony replies. “You got anywhere you have to be tomorrow?”

 

John shakes his head. “Not until Monday.”

 

“You want to hang out?” Tony offers. “I’m supposed to be off this weekend, assuming that I don’t get called in, of course.”

 

John hesitates. “You sure I won’t be intruding?”

 

“We have over twenty years of stuff to catch up on,” Tony says. “And no. I’m between conquests at the moment, and I wouldn’t mind an excuse to take the weekend off.”

 

John smirks at him. “You? Between conquests?”

 

“Looking for a little more than a quickie,” Tony admits, the way he wouldn’t admit it to anybody on his team. He’s spent far too long building up his frat boy, womanizing persona, and no one seems to understand what the thing with Jeanne meant.

 

John’s expression shutters, and he says, “Yeah, I understand that.”

 

“You got someone?” Tony asks. “Or maybe you’d like to have someone?”

 

John hesitates, and then his lips tilt up in a wry smile. “It’s funny talking to someone who knows. I’m not used to it. And to answer your question, never fall for a straight guy.”

 

Tony winces. “Yeah. Been there, done that.”

 

“Didn’t think you played for that side,” John says, raising an eyebrow.

 

He shrugs. “It’s not safe, but there’s been a guy or two over the years.”

 

“Straight?”

 

“I have the worst luck,” Tony says with a smile. “Although not recently.”

 

John leans back. “And the last breakup?”

 

“Pretty much the worst ever,” Tony confirms.

 

John chuckles. “The last time you thought about switching teams it was because Susie what’s-her-name shot you down brutally.”

 

“And you kissed me,” Tony replies with a smile. “Best kiss I got that summer.”

 

John glances away, staring at the floor, the tips of his ears going slightly pink. “In spite of how it ended?”

 

“The lure of the forbidden,” Tony replies. “Like Eve with that first apple.”

 

“Not Adam?” John asks with a laugh.

 

Tony shakes his head. “Well, if you want to be Eve, I suppose I can be Adam in this scenario.”

 

John stares at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“That’s the point,” Tony replies. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush and some sweats with your name on it.”

 

A complicated mix of emotions cross John’s face, and then he says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s couch is as comfortable as he promised. Plus, the toothbrush is new, the sweats are soft and oversized enough to be comfortable, and the sheets and blanket are luxurious.

 

John is used to unexpected outcomes, but they mostly end badly. He goes out to blow off some steam, and he gets beat up; _that_ is almost expected. Running into an old friend, who doesn’t hold a grudge and rescues him from a worse beating, who offers his couch, first aid, and an understanding ear, isn’t something he’d anticipated.

 

He settles down into the couch and pulls the blanket a little higher. John isn’t expecting to fall asleep immediately, but he does, waking the next morning to the smell of coffee.

 

 _Really good coffee_ , if John doesn’t miss his guess. Not that it should surprise him, considering the DiNozzos’ lifestyle back in the day.

 

Tony had always liked the finer things in life, and really good coffee is one of them. Tony had looked pretty snazzy last night, too, and John suspects that’s part of it too, although he has no idea how Tony affords it on a federal agent’s salary.

 

“I don’t have much in the way for food,” Tony admits as John sits up. “But coffee I can do. I thought we could hit a nearby diner for breakfast if you’re up for it.”

 

John’s stiff, and he has to hide a grunt when he stands, but he knows he’ll feel better once he gets moving. “Yeah, if we can walk.”

 

Tony gives him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, it’s just a few blocks away. It should give you enough time to loosen up.”

 

“That would be good. Maybe a clean shirt?” John asks. “At least until we can hit up my hotel room.”

 

“Paid for by the military?” Tony inquires.

 

John hesitates. “Yeah. I’m in town for some hearings.”

 

“I won’t ask anything else then,” Tony says. “Let me grab you some clean clothes. Good thing for you, I tend to hang on to things.”

 

John figures out what Tony means a few minutes later when he deposits a pile of clothing and a mug of coffee in front of John. The pants are a little too big, but the t-shirt fits well, and with a belt, the pants work out well enough, even if they’re a little long.

 

Since Tony’s clearly put on weight since he fit into these clothes, the comment about hanging onto things makes sense.

 

“Well, you’ll never pass as a fashion plate, but you’ll do for breakfast,” Tony says.

 

“Wouldn’t want to paint you in a bad light,” John says with a smirk.

 

Tony laughs. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d met my boss, and he’s the only other person I’ve taken to this diner.”

 

“Not a good looking guy?”

 

Tony grimaces. “Yeah, well. He does most of his shopping at Sears, let’s say.”

 

“You have the same tone of voice you did when you were talking about Susie,” John says.

 

Tony’s glare is half-hearted. “I think I’m beginning to recall why I generally don’t stay friends with people who knew me when I was sixteen.”

 

“What? Before you became the lady-killer you are today?” John teases.

 

Tony shuts down, his eyes going dull. “Yeah, that’s me.”

 

John’s childhood had drilled him in reading people, whether or not he uses that knowledge, and he suspects that he might be able to read Tony better than most.

 

John had known Tony before most of his masks had been in place, after all.

 

“Off limits?” John asks.

 

Tony hesitates. “I fell for a woman while on an undercover assignment.”

 

“Shit,” John replies. “That couldn’t have gone over well.”

 

“Opposite of well,” Tony admits.

 

John knows when a change of subject is in order. “Let me guess, you haven’t had much luck since then.”

 

“Not much, but I think that was probably obvious last night,” Tony replies.

 

John knows a sore subject when he sees one. “Maybe we should just get breakfast and stay away from discussing our sorry love lives.”

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Tony replies.

 

They walk down to the diner, which is just a few blocks away, and John allows Tony to fill up most of the silences. That’s not much of a change from when they were kids, so he’s not sure that Tony even notices how little information John is offering about the last few years.

 

And then Tony says, “So, how classified was this base of yours?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are we talking top secret, or more like ‘we’d tell you but we’d have to kill you?’”

 

John hesitates. “Try the latter.”

 

“Then I won’t ask any questions about why you’ve been noticeably silent while I’ve been telling highly amusing stories,” Tony says. “But if you’ve got non-classified stories, or if you want to offer highly edited versions, I won’t hold it against you.”

 

John smiles. “How do you do that?”

 

“I’m a highly trained federal agent with years of experience,” Tony replies. “But never mind, it doesn’t really matter. Just let me know if you’re bored.”

 

“I was never bored with you,” John admits.

 

And then Tony smiles, that sweet, shy grin that John had been privy to a few times when they’d been kids, when the masks hadn’t been up, when he’d just been _Tony_. “Yeah, me, too, man.”

 

~~~~~

 

John can’t really say when he realized that he liked boys better than girls, or when he knew he wanted to fly—the answer feels like “forever,” which is about the same amount of time that he’s known he can’t have either.

 

Being gay, like flying, is something that his father would never approve of, and until he meets Tony, John isn’t sure that he’ll ever be able to defy his dad’s carefully considered plans.

 

 _Andover, Harvard Business School, boardroom_ —his dad has his future laid out, and John doesn’t have a say in any of it.

 

John _might_ be able to get away with going to another Ivy League school, and he _might_ be able to major in math for his undergrad, but only with the understanding that he’ll toe the line when the time comes.

 

“If you want to fly, you should fly,” Tony says.

 

They’re lying on the beach, taking a break from surfing, and Tony’s wet, tanned skin shines in the sun. Soon, John knows, Tony will suggest going to pick up girls, something he does a lot.

 

John suspects that’s one of the reasons that his dad likes Tony—John’s had more luck with the ladies here than anywhere else, a subject John has been unable to fake interest in before.

 

“My dad is never going to go for it,” John replies. “And I’d have to get his help to get into the Academy.”

 

“Then don’t go to the Academy,” Tony says reasonably. “Go to a prestigious college that your dad approves of, get him to pay for it, then sign up. You’ll be a legal adult, and once you sign that contract, there’s fuck all he can do about it.”

 

John snorts. “Yeah, and then he disowns me.”

 

“So?” Tony sits up. “My dad disowned me when I was 12. I plan on getting a sports scholarship to pay for school. It’s actually pretty freeing, since there’s nothing he can do or say to stop me. He has no say over my life.”

 

“Other than dumping you here with your step-mom every summer,” John objects.

 

Tony shrugs. “It’s worked out pretty well, hasn’t it? Besides, it’s better than getting forgotten in a hotel room.”

 

John knows better than to ask if that really happened. Tony doesn’t exaggerate when he’s talking about Senior’s antics. He doesn’t need to.

 

“It’s your life, John,” Tony says. “You’re the one who has to live it, and you’re the one who’s going to be miserable if you don’t.”

 

John wonders what Tony would say if he knew that John is never going to have exactly what he wants. Even if he does as Tony suggests and joins the Air Force, there’s always going to be a part of John that has to stay hidden.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” John finally says.

 

And, just as he knew would happen, Tony sits up. “Come on, I see some very attractive ladies over there.”

 

“Including Suzy?” John teases.

 

“Yeah, including her,” Tony replies with a grin. “You’ll see; I’ll break through her defenses, no problem.

 

~~~~~

 

John had always been the best part of Tony’s summers, up until age seventeen, anyway. They’d hit it off right away, in spite of very different personalities, and when they made the annual summer trip to the Hamptons, John had been there from the time Tony was fifteen.

 

He’d been different from a lot of the other rich kids—interested in comic books and math and skateboarding, and a lot less interested in drugs or girls. John liked college football as much as Tony did, and he didn’t think Tony’s plans for going pro were stupid, or that his backup plan to be a cop, were stupid either.

 

John knew about his dad’s drunken antics, and his tendency to resort to the belt when he was drunk. He’d known about the times Tony had been left behind in hotel rooms, and all the step-mothers.

 

In turn, Tony had known about the circumstances of John’s mother’s death, and his dad’s autocratic insistence that John follow him into business, and John’s fervent desire to fly. He’d known a lot of things he didn’t think anybody else knew, and now they’re here, so many years later, and that knowledge brings John closer than just about anybody else has come, in spite of the years of separation.

 

Tony isn’t in touch with any of his high school girlfriends—maybe because he’d gone to RIMA and didn’t have any—but if he’d parted with them amicably, he thought the feeling of comfort might be the same.

 

They eat breakfast, and John starts telling stories, although Tony suspects they’re highly edited. He notices that someone named McKay comes up a lot, often in conjunction with radio-controlled cars and late movie nights.

 

There are absences in his story, holes that Tony thinks other people may have left, people John can’t talk about for whatever reason.

 

“How long are you in town for?” Tony asks. “I know you said you had hearings on Monday—”

 

“I’m not sure,” John admits. “It could be a few days, a few weeks…”

 

“Months?” Tony says sympathetically.

 

John shrugs. “I go where they order me.”

 

“All the while wishing you were anywhere else but here,” Tony says. “Yeah, I’ve been there before.”

 

“That stint on a ship?” John asks.

 

“A few months, with no end in sight,” Tony replies. “But I’m guessing you want to get back to that base on the ass-end of nowhere, and the people you left behind.”

 

“That obvious?” John’s smile is crooked.

 

Tony shrugs. “It’s all in the things you _don’t_ say.” He hesitates. “So, look, I work an insane number of hours, and I can’t promise to be around much, or maybe at all, but if you want to hang out, unwind, even stay on my couch instead of an impersonal hotel room, I’m happy to provide a distraction.”

 

John’s face relaxes into a smile, a genuine one, and he says, “Your couch is pretty comfortable, and it’s nice to know I have a friend in town.”

 

“Definitely,” Tony replies. “Normally, I’d head to the Y for a game of basketball, but I don’t think that’s a good idea with your ribs. How does a movie marathon sound? If you’ve been in the middle of nowhere, there are probably some you haven’t seen.”

 

John smirks. “Tony, I don’t even know what movies I haven’t seen, or which ones I’d want to see if I knew they existed.”

 

Tony rubs his hands together in glee. “Then I promise to reintroduce you to pop culture so that you are no longer ashamed to be seen in public.”

 

He laughs. “I’m not ashamed to be seen in public _now_.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you _shouldn’t_ be, though,” Tony counters. “What if someone makes a movie reference you don’t get? Then there are all these questions, and you have to explain why you don’t know who Christian Bale is.”

 

John laughs. “I know who Christian Bale is.”

 

“Can you name the last three movies he was in?”

 

“If I’m doing my job right, they aren’t thinking about Christian Bale,” John counters.

 

Tony can’t help but flirt a little bit; he flirts with everybody. “If they’re not total idiots, they aren’t thinking about anybody but you.”

 

That gets another laugh out of John. “You always were the best flirt. I think I got more play with the girls with you as my wingman than I ever did at any other time.”

 

“Well, most people know when you’re interested in them, and girls were kind of low on your priority list,” Tony replies. He doesn’t say anything about John’s lack of interest in girls in general, because they’re in public, and he knows all about needing to be careful. “You wanted to fly more than you wanted to date.”

 

John shrugs. “Dating still isn’t in the cards for me. I just wanted—”

 

“To forget for a little while?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“I’ve been there,” Tony replies. He pulls out his wallet and removes a couple of bills to throw down on the table. “Let’s get your stuff.”

 

It surprises Tony a little bit how willing he is to open up his home. He’s gone out with his frat brothers, spent weekends on the beach or in Vegas, or bar hopping. He spent nights and weekends at Jeanne’s place, too, but he’d never invited her over to his.

 

He’d made a joke out of it, about how his bed was too small for the both of them, and how he needed to get new furniture. By the time it came up, though, Jeanne had replied that there was no need.

 

Looking back, Tony thinks that maybe she’d been sad for him, had wanted to save him, when he’d been damning her.

 

“Hey, where’d you go just now?” John asks softly.

 

“Nowhere good,” Tony admits. “Sorry.”

 

“We can just hang out today,” John offers. “I’ll go back to the hotel tonight.”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, I want you to stay, at least for tonight,” and he means it. John exists in another category entirely in Tony’s mind.

 

There are times that Tony feels as though his life hadn’t really begun until college, but John had been one of the few bright spots.

 

John looks quietly grateful. “Thanks. I hate to put you out, but—”

 

“Staying in a hotel sucks, and there are times you just want to come home and grab a beer you aren’t emptying your wallet to buy,” Tony says. “Besides, it makes you at least a little unavailable.”

 

“You said it, I didn’t,” John replies.

 

In spite of Tony’s promise to catch John up on recent culture, most of his movies are a little more dated. He likes the classics, and he doesn’t watch a lot of sci-fi—although John’s _face_ when he says that apologetically is priceless, and Tony wonders what’s up with that.

 

Finally, after a stop by John’s hotel room to pick up a few things, they end up heading out to raid a local video rental place. They grab half a dozen of the new releases, some of which Tony hasn’t seen. Bond is an obvious choice, as is _The Incredible Hulk_ , since John hasn’t seen it, and Tony likes Ed Norton. They pick up _Tropic Thunder_ for the comedy, and _Body of Lies_ for the cast, and call it good.

 

There’s a decent deli next door, so they pick up lunch, and settle in for a long day of doing absolutely nothing.

 

Of course, Tony’s life being what it is, his cell phone rings around two, and he can see from the caller ID that it’s Gibbs.

 

“Shit,” he mutters, hitting pause. “I have to take this. Hey, boss.”

 

As usual, Gibbs doesn’t bother apologizing. “Dead Marine, grab your gear. I’ll text you the address.”

 

As per _not_ usual, Tony says, “I thought we were off this weekend.”

 

“Balboa’s team caught a hot one and we’re next up,” Gibbs replies. “You got a problem with that, DiNozzo?”

 

“No problem,” Tony replies with a purely internal sigh. “Be there as soon as I can.”

 

He hangs up and looks at John. “Look, I have to go in, and I have no idea when I’ll be back. I’d really like it if you were still here, but if you can’t be, I understand.”

 

John smiles easily. “I know what it’s like to be on call, Tony. As long as you don’t mind me working my way through that stack of movies, I can probably be persuaded to stay.”

 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Tony promises, and thinks that this is one of the reasons why he should really never start a relationship while undercover. And probably why he should never have a relationship with someone who doesn’t understand the pressures of his job. “Help yourself to the food and beer, there are takeout menus in the kitchen if you get hungry and I’m not home, and—”

 

“I’m a grown man, and your friend,” John replies. “Stop treating me like I’m a guest. I’ll be fine. Good luck,” John adds. “Solving the case, I mean.”

 

Tony grinned. “I don’t need luck. I’m just that good.”

 

~~~~~

 

John isn’t sure how he feels about being alone in Tony’s apartment. It’s a little weird, since they’d been friends, but haven’t been in touch for years. John feels like a guest, but it’s also better than being stuck in his hotel room all day, nursing his bruises.

 

Tony’s couch is comfortable, and he has the largest stock of ice packs John has seen outside of a hospital, which makes it easier to keep refreshing them as they warm up.

 

He hasn’t had this kind of downtime in years, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself.

 

John is exhausted, so he takes a nap, and is woken by his cell phone ringing, and sees Rodney’s name on the screen. “What’s up, McKay?”

 

“I tried calling your hotel, and you weren’t there,” Rodney says. “I thought you said you were going to sleep all day and party all night.”

 

“Nice to hear your voice, McKay,” John drawls. “I thought you were supposed to be enjoying yourself with Keller.”

 

Rodney snorts. “I’m taking a break from the wine tasting. You know I’m more of a beer guy.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” John replies. “But you’re having a good time?”

 

“Sure,” Rodney replies. “Getting to know Jennifer’s parents, and we’ll see Jeanie before we head to D.C. We’re both scheduled to testify after you and Woolsey.”

 

“Have you heard from Teyla and Ronon?” John asks.

 

“Last I heard they were headed for the Grand Canyon,” Rodney replies. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know you said you didn’t mind going solo, but—”

 

John misses his team, and Atlantis, and he feels as though he’s been set adrift, but he’s not about to admit as much to Rodney. “I actually ran into an old friend, and we’ve been catching up.”

 

“An old friend?” Rodney asks suspiciously.

 

John smiles. “Yeah, someone I knew a lifetime ago. I’m at his place right now, actually.”

 

“How do you know him?” Rodney asks.

 

That’s Rodney, always wanting to know more. “We spent vacations together as kids,” John replies, not really wanting to offer any additional information.

 

“Where?” Rodney asks.

 

“The Hamptons, where all rich assholes go to party,” John replies, a little impatiently. “Why the third degree?”

 

“Because you always get into trouble when you’re on your own!” Rodney says defensively. “And we’re not there to save you.”

 

John knows he’s wearing a fond smile. “I have Tony for that.”

 

“Wait,” Rodney says. “Does that mean you did get into trouble? What happened?”

 

“Talk to you later, McKay,” John replies and hangs up the phone. He has no intention of telling Rodney that he’d been jumped, mostly because he could do without the inevitable “I-told-you-so” that would be sure to follow.

 

If John has his way, Rodney will never know, and he thinks the bruises will have faded enough by the time he’s in D.C. that John’s misadventure can remain a secret.

 

He wonders idly how Tony would get along with the rest of his team, and realizes that he has no idea. Tony is part of his past, and John has no idea how—or if—Tony might fit into his present.

 

Really, though, best case scenario has him back on Atlantis and returning her to the Pegasus galaxy, which means that Tony has no place in his life at all.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sorry, man, that was brutal,” John offers, and his sympathy isn’t exactly welcome at the moment, mostly because he’d witnessed Suzy Morris tell Tony _exactly_ why she wouldn’t go out with him.

 

“Don’t remind me,” Tony moans.

 

“But there are plenty of other fish in the sea,” John says.

 

Tony shoots him a glare. “Shut the fuck up. None of her friends are going to date me, and she’s the most popular girl here this summer!”

 

John winces, but doesn’t reply.

 

“I mean, sure, we hang out, and it’s great,” Tony says, suddenly concerned that he’s hurt John’s feelings. “But I was hoping for a little action.”

 

Now John looks away, a red flush going up the back of his neck, the tips of his ears going pink.

 

Tony’s suddenly hot on the trail of a mystery. It hasn’t escaped his notice that John isn’t exactly smooth with the ladies, or that he’s not nearly as interested in girls as most sixteen-year-old boys.

 

He looks at John for a long moment, and then says, “You know, I’m all about life experiences. Maybe I should try batting for the other team since I clearly struck out.”

 

“Don’t make fun of me,” John says fiercely. “Don’t—”

 

“Do I sound like I’m laughing?” Tony demands. “Shit, John, why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have pushed all those girls at you!”

 

John shakes his head. “No, it’s—it’s good that you did. I have to—I _can’t_ be gay.”

 

Tony grimaces. “Pretty sure that’s something you either are or aren’t. It’s not really a matter of will.”

 

“No, I can’t be gay and fly, and if I can only have one of those things, I’d rather fly,” John says.

 

“Who says you can’t have both?” Tony asks. “Maybe you have to hide it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find somebody to get your rocks off with.”

 

John surges forward and kisses him with a clash of teeth and lips, and then pulls back. “Like with you?” he asks bitterly.

 

“Maybe if you used a little more finesse,” Tony replies, and he’s not grossed out by the idea. He’s noticed guys before, but has never taken it beyond idle attraction and some mutual jerk-off sessions.

 

Hell, he’s been going to all-boys’ schools most of his life. He _likes_ guys; he just likes girls more, particularly when he only sees them a few weeks out of the year.

 

John moves a little more slowly this time, and Tony cups his face and tilts his head, and it’s good. John is definitely inexperienced, but enthusiastic, and he has a great mouth.

 

If Tony’s being honest, it’s the best kiss he’s had in a long time.

 

“I could do that again,” Tony admits.

 

John smiles. “Yeah?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, and leans back in.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony has his game face on by the time he gets to the crime scene—smile firmly in place, bounce in his step, projecting an air of insouciance. He’s really good at that.

 

“DiNozzo, took you long enough,” Gibbs barks, and Tony maintains his outward good cheer with some effort.

 

“I came as soon as I could,” Tony replies, and doesn’t apologize. “Where do you want me?”

 

“Sketch and shoot,” Gibbs says shortly.

 

The dead Marine is young, maybe twenty at the most. He’s got a fresh haircut and is wearing his blue dress uniform, pressed and with sharp creases. The top of his head is gone, and there are blood spatters on his shirt and grass stains on his knees.

 

Suddenly, Gibbs’ short temper is explained. Tony lets the smile drop off his face, because no one’s going to expect him to be cheerful in the face of what’s pretty obviously a suicide.

 

Rule 8: “never assume” means that they’re still investigating it like it’s a murder, though.

 

It doesn’t take long to find out that Lance Corporal Nick Kappas was freshly returned from a second tour in Afghanistan, where half his unit had been killed when their convoy was ambushed. Kappas had escaped with minor bumps and bruises and a severe case of PTSD with a side of alcoholism.

 

His commanding officer ordered him to counseling, which Kappas had grudgingly attended without much improvement. He’d been looking at a discharge—general under honorable conditions—and Kappas hadn’t been able to see a life outside the Corps.

 

Kappas wrote a suicide note addressed to his parents, put on his dress uniform, and shot himself in a park.

 

Tony finds the whole thing almost unbearably sad. He writes his report and prints it off and emails it, and then just sits and stares blankly at his monitor.

 

It’s just such a fucking waste.

 

“Ziva and I are going out for a drink,” McGee says, stopping in front of Tony’s desk. “Do you want to join us?”

 

Tony speaks without thinking. “I’ve got a buddy in town who’s staying at my place, so I’ll pass, thanks.” He probably wouldn’t have gone out anyway, since after a day like today his preferred coping method involves solitude and maybe a movie.

 

Granted, he’d gone to Jeanne after Paula Cassidy was killed, but Tony’s never really had anybody to go to other than her. He’s not really sure he can confide in John, though, and he’s not sure he’s looking forward to going home.

 

“Didn’t know you were having company, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says. “You didn’t ask for the weekend off.”

 

“We ran into each other last night,” Tony replies. “It wasn’t exactly planned.”

 

Gibbs gives him a sharp look. “Then go home.”

 

“Going, boss,” Tony says, because he tries not to disobey direct orders when those orders make sense.

 

Tony just wishes he knew John better, that he knew how John might respond when Tony tells him about Kappas, and the hole in his head, and the waste of a young life. He wishes he had Jeanne back, or someone like her.

 

He wishes he had someone permanent to come home to on a regular basis.

 

When Tony gets back to his apartment, he walks in to the smell of pizza. “Honey, I’m home,” he says, leading with a joke.

 

“Pizza’s in the oven to keep it warm,” John calls from the couch. “Did you solve the case?”

 

“Wasn’t much of a case,” Tony replies, opening the oven to find a pizza box. When he opens it, he finds there have been major inroads made in one half, which looks like it’s pepperoni. The other half—sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese. “You remembered?”

 

“We ordered pizza often enough,” John replies. “I got pepperoni and cream cheese on the other half.”

 

Tony grabs two slices from his half and one from John’s. “Thanks. Beer?”

 

“Got one, thanks,” John replies. “You want to talk about it?”

 

Tony sits on the couch next to John and takes a bite of his still-warm slice. “Suicide. Twenty-year-old kid who didn’t believe he had anything to live for.”

 

“Sucks,” John says succinctly.

 

Tony closes his eyes briefly. “You have no idea. I’m just so fucking tired.”

 

“Eat your pizza and drink your beer,” John advises. “I’ll put on a movie, and you can get out of your head for a while.”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Tony admits.

 

He lets John pick the movie and is amused when he pulls out _Die Hard_. John McClain is exactly what Tony needs, and he finishes his fourth slice while McClain is saying his iconic line—which John Sheppard says right along with him.

 

“You love this movie.”

 

John shoots him a grin. “What’s not to like? It’s a badass named John taking down a bunch of terrorists single-handedly.”

 

“Something you’ve done?” Tony asks.

 

John hitches a shoulder. “Just once.”

 

Somehow, Tony believes him. “You know, I infiltrated a terrorist camp in Somalia.”

 

“You always have to one-up me,” John complains. “Anything else you want to share?”

 

“I was handcuffed to a serial killer?” Tony offers.

 

John’s eyes narrow. “Seriously?”

 

“Undercover operation,” Tony replies. “And yes.”

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure I could top that, but if I shared my classified stories, I’d have to kill you,” John replies.

 

Tony laughs and relaxes against the cushions. “Yeah, I know you’re just intimidated by my total awesomeness.”

 

“Fuck you,” John says on a laugh, and Tony stuffs the rest of his pizza into his mouth and shoves John, mindful of his bruises.

 

John shoves back, and it’s like when they were kids and were wrestling, and then the mood turns on a dime. They both stop, and Tony meets his eyes, and John reaches out to pull Tony in for a kiss.

 

They aren’t sixteen anymore, but they’re both more experienced now, and it’s good. And then John opens his mouth and brings his tongue into play, and it gets even better.

 

“What the fuck are we doing?” John asks when they take a break to catch their breath.

 

Tony cups John’s cheek in his hand. “I was out looking for the same thing you were the other night, you know.” He pauses. “You know I’ll keep your secrets, John. I always have before. We can be in this together.”

 

John surges forward, and Tony has to wonder if he’s as touch-starved as he seems right at that moment, because he’s all hands until Tony grabs them. “Hey,” he says. “We’ve got all night, and you’re still on the injured list.”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” John mutters and pulls back.

 

“Okay, so this is where I ask you how long it’s been, and what you want to do,” Tony replies. “And I’ll tell you that just about anything is on the table, assuming I have enough lube on hand.”

 

John huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. It’s been a long dry spell.”

 

“Base at the backend of nowhere?” Tony asks. “Yeah. I got real familiar with my right hand on the ship. So?”

 

“You’re offering me an embarrassment of riches right now,” John replies. “Dealer’s choice?”

 

Tony smirks. “Blow job?”

 

“Has anybody ever said no to that?”

 

“Not that I know of.”

 

Tony’s always been a fan of oral, giving and receiving, and he hasn’t left a partner unhappy since he was just starting out, and there was an unfortunate incident with his teeth. No damage done, but it had been a real mood killer.

 

John certainly doesn’t have any complaints, if the noises he’s making mean anything. Tony wants to draw it out, to make it good, and so he goes slow, pulling out all the stops and using every trick in the book.

 

“Fuck, Tony,” John gasps, resting a hand on the top of Tony’s head. He doesn’t pull Tony’s hair, or put any pressure on his head. His fingers tangle in Tony’s hair briefly in a caress as Tony swirls his tongue. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

 

Tony pulls off just long enough to say with a smirk, “Pretty good at fucking, too.”

 

“Maybe later,” John replies. “Haven’t been with anyone I trusted enough for that in a long time.”

 

Tony isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he goes back to his blowjob, bringing John off fairly quickly after that, swallowing with ease.

 

“You get a lot of practice?” John asks with some amusement, looking completely relaxed and not a little debauched.

 

Tony shrugs. “Not as much as I’d like these days.”

 

“Give me a minute, and I’ll return the favor,” John says.

 

“You’re still injured,” Tony shoots back. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a helping hand.”

 

“I think I can manage that,” John replies. “Thanks.”

 

Tony offers a fond smile. “The pleasure was all mine.”

 

~~~~~

 

John wakes slowly the next morning, and while he’s still sore, he’s otherwise warm and comfortable. He’s not surprised that Tony’s bed is top of the line, or even that he’s a bit of a cuddler.

 

Tony presses a kiss to John’s bare shoulder. “Hey, I’m going for a run, and to grab breakfast. Bagels okay?”

 

“Great,” John replies. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Tony says. “Feel free to use whatever you need in the bathroom, or sleep as late as you want.”

 

John does go back to sleep for a little while, but he’s not used to sleeping in, so he only dozes, and then he avails himself of the apparently unlimited hot water on tap. He pulls on his last clean pair of jeans—he’s running low on civvies, since he’d never needed them on Atlantis—and rummages for a clean t-shirt.

 

“Hey,” Tony says, entering the bedroom. “Bagels and cream cheese are on the counter, and the coffee’s perking.”

 

“Thanks,” John replies. He comes up empty handed and says, “You mind if I borrow a shirt?”

 

“Knock yourself out,” Tony replies. “I’m going to take a shower.”

 

John finds a t-shirt and pulls it on, padding out to the kitchen on bare feet. He pops a bagel into the toaster and pours a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter.

 

One more day until the hearings start, and he wonders idly how they’ll pass the time.

 

The water shuts off just as there’s a knock on the door. “Would you get that?” Tony calls. “It’s probably Mrs. Kagan from next door wanting me to get her paper. She does that when her hip’s bothering her.”

 

John shrugs and opens the door, freezing when he sees the man on the other side.

 

“You must be Tony’s buddy,” he says.

 

John’s bagel turns to lead in his stomach, knowing exactly what this looks like, what with him in bare feet and wearing one of Tony’s shirts. The guy has a military bearing and a haircut reminiscent of a Marine’s high-and-tight, along with piercing blue eyes that don’t miss anything.

 

“Gibbs,” the man says, holding out a hand.

 

John shakes his hand. “John.” Then, he thinks _in for a penny, in for a pound_. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Air Force.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Gibbs replies stepping inside the apartment.

 

“Yeah,” John replies. “Likewise.”

 

Gibbs heads straight for the coffee pot. “How long you in town for?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” John replies. “It’s classified.”

 

“No grilling my friend, Gibbs,” Tony says, coming out of the bedroom, dressed much the same way as John in jeans and a t-shirt. He pats John on the shoulder. “Relax. We’re not at work, and you’re not the subject of an investigation. We’re federal agents, not the morality police.”

 

“You’ve got part of that right,” Gibbs says. “You didn’t mention that your buddy was involved in an assault, DiNozzo.”

 

John knows his bruises are a dead giveaway, but he has to wonder how much Gibbs knows. “Case of mistaken identity.”

 

“More like a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Gibbs replies. “There’ve been a rash of assaults around Dupont Circle lately.”

 

Now, John is certain that Gibbs knows.

 

“Can’t be too careful these days,” Gibbs continues. “Glad you weren’t hurt worse.”

 

“Sometimes, it’s a case of being in the right place at the right time,” Tony says cheerfully. “But Gibbs, seriously, what are you doing here? Do we have a case?”

 

Gibbs shakes his head. “Nope. Just thought I’d stop by to meet this friend of yours. You don’t have a lot of people drop in. Maybe you want to come by for dinner tonight.”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony says. “I think you’re making John nervous.”

 

“Not my intention,” Gibbs replies. “Unless he has something to be nervous about.”

 

Tony’s eyes go chilly. “You’re overstepping your bounds right now. Check up on me all you want, but don’t threaten my friend.”

 

Gibbs holds up his hands. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

 

Tony snorts. “You were being nosy, you mean.”

 

“The case shook you up, and it’s been a rough few months,” Gibbs says.

 

Tony sighs, all the fight going out of him. “Yeah. More like a rough few years.”

 

“I’ll let you two get back to your Sunday,” Gibbs says. “And steak at my place at 6. Bring your own beer. Nice to meet you, Sheppard.”

 

John looks at Tony once the door closes behind Gibbs. “Should I be worried?”

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, that was Gibbs’ friendly reminder that if you’re going clubbing around Dupont Circle, someone might see you.”

 

“But he knows,” John says.

 

Tony sighs. “About me? Yeah, Gibbs has known since Baltimore. I wasn’t all that careful, and I got into a bad situation.”

 

“ _That_ was his version of a friendly warning?” John asks incredulously.

 

“Yeah, that was actually pretty nice for Gibbs,” Tony admits. “You okay?”

 

John rubs his forehead. “I don’t know if I’m going to go back into the field, Tony, but I don’t want to go out like _this_.”

 

“Hey,” Tony says, putting his hands on John’s shoulders. “I know you’re used to hiding this, and I know why you feel like you need to, but Gibbs isn’t going to out you. _I’m_ not going to out you, and as far as anybody knows, we’re just two old friends catching up.”

 

John glares at him. “And if someone does a little digging and finds out what happened between us?”

 

“Who’s going to tell them?” Tony asks. “Your dad is dead, and my dad wouldn’t admit his kid is gay if someone put a gun to his head. Nobody else ever knew. Besides, who’s going to even _ask_? Tell me that someone you know is aware of your preferences.”

 

John shakes his head. “No one.”

 

“So?” Tony demands. “Look, we can stop. We can go to Gibbs’ house for dinner, and we’ll tell him about all the times we picked up girls. Or we can do what we want and keep it quiet, the way we did before, only this time there aren’t any parents to walk in on us, and no one is ever going to know.”

 

John takes a breath. “Right. You’re right.”

 

He’s been keeping secrets for years, what’s one more?

 

~~~~~

 

In John’s second year at Andover, there had been a scandal involving two older boys. They’d been together, and then there had been a really messy breakup, and one boy had told the administration what happened. John is pretty sure there had been accusations, but he isn’t sure, as no one had spoken of it except in whispers, and both left the school.

 

Since then, he’s always been too scared to try anything. John doesn’t mind physical danger, because that’s mostly exhilarating. But letting emotions get involved? No way.

 

Not after his mom had died and left a huge, gaping wound.

 

John really should know better than to get involved with Tony—to kiss him, to touch him—because he’s going back to school after this, and no one can know. No one will ever know, but—

 

Tony is kind and funny and he likes the same things John likes—even if he doesn’t really get John’s fascination with math. He doesn’t make fun of John for it, though, and he touches John with careful hands, and his kisses make John respond in a way he never has to a girl.

 

They spend hours at Tony’s place because it’s nearly always empty, but sometimes they have to be at John’s because his dad doesn’t want to hire a nanny for the summer.

 

Dave has his own friends, though, and most of the time they’re left alone to their lazy explorations.

 

Tony already knows John fairly well, but in the few weeks they have before it all goes to hell, John discovers the meaning of pillow talk, and he tells Tony about his mom, and how ill she’d been, and how when he’s on the back of a horse, he feels like he’s flying.

 

Returning the favor, Tony tells him about his mom, and his nightmares, and the sailor suits, and his dad’s occasional drunken rages, and the Civil War reenactments and his stupid nickname.

 

John can see that Tony’s trying to pass it off as a funny story, but there’s hurt in his eyes, and John tries to kiss it away.

 

No one seems to notice or care that they’re spending the vast majority of their time together, even more inseparable than they’d been from the first time Tony had asked John to join them for flag football.

 

Tony always has a large circle of friends, but John feels like he’s special, like he gets to see more of Tony than anybody else.

 

He doesn’t think any of the other people they play pick-up games with know about Tony’s mom, or the reenactments. They don’t know how Tony kisses, sweet and leisurely, and like John’s the focus of his entire world.

 

One weekend, they take Dave to Coney Island, and they ride the Ferris wheel, and hold hands under the cover of darkness.

 

It’s the most normal John has ever felt, at least since realizing that he likes boys.

 

Two weeks before John and his dad and brother are scheduled to go back to Virginia, he and Tony are in his bedroom, making the most of the time they have left together. They’re paging through a car magazine Tony had bought, and it’s friendly and casual.

 

“I’m telling you, someday I’m going to have a red Ferrari,” Tony insists.

 

John smirks. “Why not a Corvette?”

 

“Corvettes are cool, but the Ferrari is cooler,” Tony argues.

 

Tony is so completely serious in that moment, and so adorable in his sincerity, that John can’t help but place a casual, affectionate kiss on his cheek, which then prompts Tony to turn his head and kiss John on the mouth.

 

Maybe, if things had worked out differently, Tony or John would have deepened the kiss, and it would have become more serious, hotter, betraying a lust they couldn’t hide.

 

But when the door creaks open, and John sees his dad out of the corner of his eye, he freezes completely.

 

Tony keeps his head, and he pulls back, getting to his feet even as John’s dad demands, “What the hell is going on here?”

 

“It was my fault,” Tony says easily. “I dared him.”

 

John gets to his feet slowly, uncertain as to how to respond. It’s not Tony’s fault at all, since John is the one who started all of this.

 

“You dared him,” John’s dad says flatly.

 

“And completely my idea,” Tony says blithely. “Some of the guys were giving us a hard time. This was proof we weren’t gay.”

 

His dad blinks. “Proof—”

 

“We aren’t gay, right,” Tony says with a grin.

 

He sounds so sure, John almost believes it, that they had been kissing just to prove they didn’t have to kiss.

 

“John?” his dad prompts. “Is this true?”

 

There’s a part of John that wants to tell the truth, to tell his dad that he’s gay, and Tony is his boyfriend, and has been for the last few weeks.

 

But John also knows how important it is to stay hidden, and to pick his battles. He has a way out, but that depends on his dad believing that he’s toeing the line until he breaks free.

 

He glances at Tony, who nods slightly. “Yeah, it’s true,” John says, bile in his mouth. “It was just a dare.”

 

“I egged him on,” Tony says, really selling it. “It was totally my fault, sir.”

 

His dad frowns. “I think you’d better leave, Tony. I’ll be speaking to your father about this.”

 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Tony says with a little salute that’s just this side of mocking. “See you later, John.”

 

Given the look on his dad’s face, John’s pretty sure he’s never going to see Tony again, at least if his dad has anything to say about it.

 

“See you,” John says faintly.

 

Once Tony is gone, his dad demands, “Was he right? Did he pressure you at all? Did he do something you didn’t want?”

 

John knows that he could throw Tony under the bus, claim that he’d assaulted him, but John isn’t willing to do that. Tony is his friend, first of all, and he’d taken the heat off of John.

 

“No, it was just—like Tony said. It was a dare,” John says awkwardly. “It didn’t mean anything.”

 

He hates saying it, because Tony means so much more than that to him. John wouldn’t say he’s in love, but he thinks he might love him. They don’t talk during the school year, but this is the third year he’s met up with Tony, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

 

John thinks it’s possible that years could go by, and they’d still be friends somehow.

 

Maybe Tony will forgive him for this, eventually.

 

His dad looks supremely uncomfortable. “I know you and Tony are friends, John, but you can’t let your friends lead you around by the nose. You have to forge your own path, and there are things that are expected of my sons that aren’t expected of Tony.”

 

“Because his dad disowned him?” John asks.

 

His dad grimaces. “Because Tony isn’t expected to take over his father’s company. The DiNozzos aren’t like us. They’re—they don’t have the same expectations.”

 

John knows what his dad isn’t saying—the DiNozzos are relatively new money, and Senior doesn’t have old money of his own. The DiNozzos don’t belong, is what his dad is saying, and John wonders if his dad would be more or less understanding if he’d been caught kissing someone who _did_ belong in their world, at least in his dad’s eyes.

 

And that’s the moment that he makes up his mind—he’s not going to be the kind of Sheppard his dad wants him to be. He’s going to be his own man.

 

Right now, though, he doesn’t have a lot of options.

 

“I understand,” John says. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“Other people can get away with deviant behaviors, but you can’t,” his dad insists. “You need to understand that.”

 

“I do,” John says dully. He’s pretty sure that his dad has absolutely no idea how far from the Sheppard mold he plans on going.

 

But Tony had been right; John has to get through college, and then he can do what he likes.

 

It’s only slightly more palatable knowing that he wants to fly more than anything else, and he’d have sacrificed his relationship with Tony for that opportunity.

 

Maybe, in another life, in another world, John wouldn’t have to choose, but that’s not the world he lives in now.

 

“It was stupid,” John says finally. “A stupid dare. It won’t happen again.”

 

“See that it doesn’t,” his dad replies. “And Tony isn’t welcome here in the future.”

 

Not that it matters, since John’s dad takes them back to Virginia the next day, and when they go back to the Hamptons the next year, Tony’s nowhere to be seen.

 

John makes his own way, and when he runs into Tony years later, he realizes that he’d been right.

 

No matter how many years have gone by, or how much they’ve changed, their friendship has weathered the test of time.

 

That doesn’t change the fact that he wishes things had been different, or that he wishes he’d done things differently, but at least Tony has forgiven him.

 

~~~~~

 

“You sure you want to do this?” Tony asks. “Because we don’t have to.”

 

In truth, Tony likes the idea of cowboy steaks, and he’d like John to get to know Gibbs better, but he also knows that John is a little freaked out right now.

 

“No, from what you’ve said Gibbs is a big part of your life,” John replies.

 

Tony shrugs. “Not to mention that meeting and hanging out with my coworkers makes it more likely that people will see _us_ as two old friends.”

 

“Hiding in plain sight?” John asks.

 

“Trust me on this one,” Tony replies. “If there’s anybody who knows undercover work, it’s me.”

 

John raises his eyebrows. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

 

“In this arena, absolutely,” Tony replies. “I’ll drop you by your hotel on my way home. I figure you’ll probably want to stay there tonight with the hearings tomorrow.”

 

John nods. “Yeah, that would be great.”

 

They bring the beer, as requested, and show up at Gibbs’ place at six. Tony walks right in, John on his heels, immediately smelling a touch of smoke and grilled steak. “Hey, boss.”

 

“Right on time,” Gibbs says. “Glad you could both make it.”

 

John is definitely wary, but he maintains an affable expression as they sit down in Gibbs’ living room and pop the caps off their beer bottles.

 

“So, where were you stationed before D.C.?” Gibbs asks as he flips the steaks.

 

John hesitates. “Sorry, that’s classified.”

 

Gibbs raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t press for more details. “And you’re a pilot?”

 

“Mostly helicopters,” John replies. “A few experimental aircraft.” He pauses. “I was stationed in Afghanistan for a while, and flew a few missions.”

 

Gibbs gives him a sharp look. “Spec ops?”

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “Very classified, very hush-hush.”

 

“I know all about those,” Gibbs replies. “How do you know Tony?”

 

John glances at him, and Tony nods. “We spent a few summers together when we were kids. My dad rented a place in the Hamptons.”

 

“And my step-mother at the time had a place,” Tony supplies. “Dad got tired of dumping me in hotel rooms when he was making business deals, so he dumped me on her.”

 

“You two lost touch?” Gibbs asks, and Tony wonders if he knows that he’s treading on dangerous territory.

 

“Dad and step-mom number three divorced, and no more house in the Hamptons,” Tony says blithely. “I didn’t go back.”

 

“I stopped going after my senior year of high school,” John says. “My dad wasn’t exactly thrilled with my choice of majors, or my decision to go into the Air Force. He didn’t disown me, but he said he wasn’t paying for anything past college unless I agreed to go into the family business. We didn’t talk much after that.”

 

Gibbs grunts. “Sounds like you two have that in common.”

 

Tony shares a look with John. “We also both like football, surfing, and movies. Although, to be fair, John’s more of a fan of science-fiction whereas I’m a classics man.”

 

John grins. “You have eclectic tastes, Tony. Don’t lie—you like _Back to the Future_ as much as I do.”

 

“Hm, true,” Tony admits. “Although, Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd, what’s not to like?”

 

Gibbs takes a sip of his beer. “I didn’t know you liked sci-fi, DiNozzo.”

 

“It’s not something I advertise,” Tony replies. “McGee would have a field day, and I’d be subject to endless quizzing about my geek cred.”

 

“Which barely exists,” John says with a grin. “You’re worse than I am, or at least that’s what McKay would say.”

 

“Worse at what?” Gibbs asks.

 

John shoots Tony a look. “Pretending that he’s an idiot so people underestimate him. He’s been doing that since we were kids.”

 

“He’s good at it,” Gibbs says dryly.

 

“Hey!” Tony protests, pretty sure he should be insulted by that.

 

John grins brightly. “He’s got a point, Tony. My dad was certainly taken in.”

 

“True,” Tony replies. “Which is a good thing for both of us, since we both got away with a lot more.”

 

“Entirely true,” John agrees.

 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Gibbs says. “I gotta pull the steaks off.”

 

The steaks are as good as they usually are, perfectly cooked and juicy. There are baked potatoes and green beans, too, and they eat at the table, which means—

 

Gibbs is actually trying _impress_ John, and Tony isn’t sure what to do with that.

 

“This is great,” John says enthusiastically. “I haven’t had a steak this good in years.”

 

Gibbs smiles. “It’s the least I could do after giving you a scare this morning.”

 

And now Tony _knows_ Gibbs is trying to impress John, and it worries him.

 

~~~~~

 

So far, the evening has gone a lot better than John anticipated. Gibbs is gruff, but the food is good, and John relaxes. He’s not used to talking about this part of his life, or even talking about his past at all. He doesn’t talk about his past as a general rule, not even with his team.

 

With Tony, just about everything is past, and he can’t _not_ talk about it.

 

“I have to hit the head,” Tony says. “Be right back.”

 

John expects to get hit with the third degree, but instead, Gibbs leans back in his chair, regarding him silently. John works a thumbnail under the label on his beer bottle.

 

“In all the years I’ve known him, Tony hasn’t invited anybody to stay at his place, but you come to town, and he opens his home,” Gibbs says. “You must be pretty special to him.”

 

John isn’t sure how to respond, but finally says, “We were close, and he’s saved my ass a couple of times now. I’m not sure I’d be who I am today without Tony.”

 

“DiNozzo has a way of changing things,” Gibbs replies.

 

“He has a way of finding solutions,” John says. “When I was sixteen, and all I wanted was to fly, I couldn’t see a way to do that. Tony could.”

 

“That seems to be his specialty,” Gibbs agrees.

 

“What did I miss?” Tony asks as he comes into the room. “You weren’t interrogating him, were you?”

 

“I’m good, Tony,” John replies. “We’re cool.”

 

Tony sits down and polishes off his beer. “Good.”

 

“We should do this again sometime,” Gibbs says. “If you’re in town.”

 

“I should be,” John says. “Although I’m not sure how long.”

 

Tony hitches a shoulder. “Hard to say what our caseload is going to be like, but maybe you could meet the whole team.”

 

“I’d like that, too,” John admits. He has to admit he feels a little less lonely knowing that Tony is in town, and that there’s at least one friendly face when he expects the hearings to be brutal.

 

Declassification is a real possibility at this point, as is Atlantis staying on Earth, although John knows that Atlantis is needed back in Pegasus. He wants nothing more than to go back, even though he’d be leaving with a tie to Earth he didn’t have before.

 

The rest of the evening is fairly relaxed, and John can see why Tony likes Gibbs so much. He might not say much, but his affection and loyalty for Tony is obvious.

 

Tony’s affection is a little less obvious, but John knows how to read people.

 

They leave a little after eight, since both he and Tony have early mornings, and Tony parks at the hotel. “Do you want me to come up?”

 

“Probably better not,” John says regretfully. “I’d have to invite you in, and I don’t have anything to offer you to drink.”

 

Tony smiles. “Would we be drinking?”

 

“No,” John admits. “But it’s better to keep that sort of activity out of the hotel.”

 

“Fair enough,” Tony agrees.

 

John leans against the door. “How long have you been in love with Gibbs?”

 

Tony blinks. “What?” He laughs awkwardly. “That’s just crazy talk.”

 

“Is it?” John counters.

 

Tony sighs. “Was it that obvious?”

 

“It’s not obvious at all,” John assures him. “But I’ve seen you interested in other people before, and the signs were there if you know what to look for.”

 

“Rule number 12, never get involved with someone at work,” Tony explains. “Gibbs isn’t going to break that rule for me, even if he weren’t straight, and I’m not leaving the MCRT.”

 

“So, what are we doing, Tony?” John asks. “You’re interested in Gibbs, and if things go the way I want, I’ll be back on that base at the back end of nowhere in a few weeks, or maybe a few months.”

 

“I know that,” Tony replies. “But who says this has to go anywhere? Maybe we can be whatever we need right now.”

 

John lets out a breath. “Okay. Fair enough.”

 

“Call me,” Tony orders. “I don’t know what this week is going to look like, but I’d like to see you.”

 

“Same here,” John agrees. “I really want to kiss you right now, but—”

 

“Not a good idea,” Tony says. “This time, it’s the thought that counts.”

 

But he does grab John’s hand, briefly tangling their fingers, and the caress stays with John even as he goes up to his hotel room.

 

His time in D.C. might not be so bad, after all.


End file.
